Dependent Upon You
by LeopardFang
Summary: People with anxiety latch onto one person, a best friend or sibling, and they become dependent. They can't function without them. The worse thing is though, that they always worry that they are too clingy and too annoying and that the person doesn't really care about them. At a young age Stiles hangs onto Scott for dear life, and he still hasn't let go.


Just a short little one-shot. When it's set kinda jumps all over the place because I wrote most of it at 2 am so just roll with it.

Also I do this thing where I expand on details too much sorry if it's annoying just try to ignore it.

This is friendship just like really really close friendship.

Warnings for anxiety obviously.

Also mentions of Alcohol Abuse and Self Harm be safe guys and don't read if that is triggering.

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I don't remember meeting Scott. I know it was in first grade, and that we met in school, and that's about it. It just seems like he's always been there. Like he's just been that steady never-changing rock in my life, that one thing that you never question because it's always just been there. Like that scratch on your door that's just always been there or the tiny birthmark on your back that's just always been there or that sinking feeling in your stomach that's just always been there.

It's not that I don't remember things we did, like play with action figures or argue about stupid stuff that seemed important at the time or cry from the little scrapes and cuts we got playing on the playground because at the time it was the worst pain we'd ever felt. I remember that one Halloween when Scott dressed as some kind of mouse because his ninja costume had been ruined and the mouse costume was the only thing he could find so last-minute. I remember laughing about it but not in a mocking way just in a genuinely funny way and I remember feeling bad afterwards even though he laughed first and he didn't think my laughing was odd or mean in the slightest.

I remember a lot. But not our meeting. I don't know why. It was more important than that time I fell off my bike and into the grass and just laughed because somehow I hadn't gotten injured at all. It was much more important that most of the stupid stuff I remember but no matter how hard I try I can't remember our meeting.

Which is stupid, really, but whatever.

Scott has just always been there. We were there for each other. Though everything. Through his parents divorce and my mom's death. Through his first major asthma attack and my first major panic attack. Through every single dread-filled first day of school where my stomach was churning so much with anxiety that I almost threw up.

We had just always had each other's backs. Like that time Scott forgot his inhaler and couldn't breathe and I just pulled out an extra inhaler I had because he always lost his. Or that time I almost had a full blown panic attack in the middle of class and people were starting to notice my weird breathing, but Scott actually fell out of his chair in front of everyone to distract them long enough for me to escape to the bathroom without everyone noticing.

But no matter how much time we hang around each other, how many secrets we share with each other, how many life-changing events happen and yet somehow we still wind up best friends, I still doubt everything.

I still worry that I follow him around too much. That I talk to him too much. That I tell him how I'm actually feeling too much. I still spend every single second worrying that I'm too clingy, too dependent, too annoying. That I'm not really his best friend and he doesn't really care about me as much as I care about him. That I'm not really that important to him and I'm just an annoying person that he hangs out with out of pity or boredom.

I know, of course, that he does really care. He wouldn't spend so much time with me if he didn't, he wouldn't tell me so many secrets if he didn't trust me, he wouldn't cling to me in social situations like I'm his lifeline If I wasn't his best friend. But I still doubt it sometimes, like I doubt everything. I still doubt that I'm actually important to him.

Which is stupid, really, but whatever.

I'd like to say not much changed after Scott became a werewolf but then I'd be lying. Because suddenly it wasn't just the two of us, Scott and Stiles, up against the world. It was really tough at first. Scott started spending more time with Allison and less time with me and I couldn't stop my stupid irrational thoughts and the way they kept telling me that Scott was moving on and leaving me behind.

But then, my heart caught up to my brain, and I realized that Allison was actually a nice person and Lydia was actually starting to notice me and Derek did have a heart behind that emotionless mask and maybe Jackson wasn't as much of a jackass as I first thought. Then I realized that Scott was just gaining friends. Not switching out newer, better, friends for me the old stupid anxious friend he had. After all, Scott was my best friend, he would never really forget about me.

And then they started talking to me. I started to talk to Allison and Lydia and become friends with them, and found out that other than Derek's need to shove me into walls he was actually quite a good guy. Then I think I actually made some real true friends which I hadn't really had since Scott. My friend group grew when Derek went on a rampage and started changing teenagers into werewolves and I became friends with Isaac as well.

Then it was okay for a while before it all went to shit. Lots of people died and lots of people left and then all that was left was Me and Scott. It was weird, it being just me and Scott again after having so many friends. I mean, Lydia was still our friend, but she was different, a little messed up in the head and a little messed up in the heart and she started treating me like glass as if she knew something I didn't.

But it didn't take long before Scott had a full pack again, when Lydia got closer and Kira got closer and Malia got closer and Scott bit Liam. When I was once again surrounded by pack. And it was nice. It was nice to have other people I knew I could trust and hang around with.

But they weren't the same as Scott.

Not even close.

Scott was my best friend, my brother, my lifeline. Scott was the one I had spent years with. He was the one I attached to at a young age. He was the one person in the world I could trust with everything. He was the one I instinctively called in the middle of the night when I woke up from a nightmare. He was the one I instinctively called when I got a little too drunk or a little too anxious.

Sometimes Scott was the only thing keeping my head above the water.

On bad days, anxious days, where my stomach was churning and churning and churning. When I was freaking out, when it was all too much, and _how was everyone else so calm?_ Where my hands were kinda numb and I felt kinda lightheaded. Where voices were just a constant drone that was like white noise but much louder. Where my heartbeat was rough enough to clash against my ribcage and sound loud in my ears. When I realized I was going to have a panic attack which just made me panic even more.

When all this happened, Scott was just _there_ , he just _appeared out of nowhere_. I don't know how he knew I was freaking out, when he was with Kira or the rest of the pack on the other side of the room, but he did. He just knew. Maybe it was his werewolf senses, or maybe it was just Scott himself, but he always knew

Well, almost always, but that's another story to tell. One I'd rather not think about.

The point is I'm broken. Something inside my brain is just wrong. I freak out over everything, emotions pulled tight and uneven, the slightest thing setting off a billion of emotions. So many that I couldn't control and it was overwhelming so my mind just chose panic and ran with it. It was terrifying and worrying and each and every time I thought it was going to kill me but it never did. I was still here, still broken beyond repair, still weighing everyone down.

Sometimes I think Scott hates me. That they all hate me. That I'm just the weak little human that can't control his emotions and freaks out over everything. That I'm just dragging them all down. I never tell any of them this, and they stay oblivious. Which, I guess, is easier for most of the pack because they don't even know about my anxiety issues. I don't tell Scott either, that I sometimes wonder if I'm even really his best friend, but I think he knows anyway.

I usually tell Scott everything, but sometimes I'll lie. Sometimes I'll be weary around the shoulders and weary around the heart and he will ask me if I'm okay and I'll lie. I'll say I'm fine. Usually he just gives me this look and I know he knows and he knows I know he knows, and neither of us talk about it, even though his eyes tell me he really does care. I don't know if I truly believe him though, if I will ever be able to truly believe him. Other times he actually says something sappy and stupid and it sometimes works but it usually doesn't because I use my brain above my heart and my brain is telling me he doesn't care.

It's stupid, really, but whatever.

Scott told me once that I smell like anxiety. All the time. He says that he's gotten used to it, that he doesn't even smell it anymore because I always reek of it. He's spent so much time around it that he doesn't even smell it anymore. He tells me that is horrible, because no one should feel like that all the time, no one should have something that dark laced forever in their scent. And I just shrug, because it's not like I can change it, there is nothing I can do about it.

 _Nothing at all._

I was so used to Scott being there that I couldn't function when he wasn't. I had grown too dependent. I had latched on and never let go. I had gotten used to it, the ever-steady presence by my side, the positive voice always there when all around me was negative. I had gotten so used to Scott, that when he yelled and me and left me I didn't understand.

Sure I had lied because I always lie. I lie because I'm a coward and I don't have claws or fangs I just have words. I lie because it's easy and simple and I thought it would keep Scott from hating me. I thought if I lied and didn't tell anyone it would make it easier. I lied because I couldn't stand the thought of him telling me that Donovan died because of me. I couldn't stand the thought that he would tell me it's my fault, that I killed him, that it wasn't really self-defense and I was just killing an innocent.

I had known Scott would be angry, disappointed, so I lied. Because lying was easy.

I hadn't expected this though. I'd expected to be yelled at, to be pushed around, for him to make me feel guilty. That was expected. I didn't expect him to leave. He couldn't leave. Scott couldn't leave. Scott was always there and that was it. He had always been there. He couldn't leave. Him leaving was the same as pigs flying and gravity reversing. It just didn't happen. It couldn't happen.

It couldn't happen.

But it did.

Scott left.

Suddenly years and years and years of friendship left in only a few minutes. It all ended and I was left alone. Alone. Scott wasn't there and it wasn't okay because Scott wasn't there and it was Scott that made it okay. It wasn't okay now. So I followed my dad's example and took that scotch from the back of the cabinet and went to the woods and drank until I couldn't think.

I woke up on the forest floor with a spider bite in my arm and the sky blocked by trees.

And it still wasn't okay.

So I drank until I couldn't think and I cut until I couldn't feel and it still wasn't okay.

Then Scott came back and the universe fell back into place and I had my best friend back but the scars on my legs didn't fade and the bottle of scotch never really stayed full because habits are hard to break. Habits are hard to break so I kept lying and I kept cutting and I kept drinking.

I latched onto Scott, even tighter than before, and I knew I was there so much that it was a nuisance but I couldn't stay away. Now that I knew he could leave I couldn't detach for a single second because then he would breathe and realize that he made a mistake in coming back. Because I'm so dependent and clingy that it must be toxic to him. It must be bad for him to always have me there but I can't help it.

I need him.

I need him more than I should. I'm dependent and I really can't function without him like he can function without me. He can go on with his life without me in a way I never could. Because he's the oxygen in the air and the soil in the dirt and I can't survive without him.

I can't survive without him.

It's that simple.

He keeps me grounded and alive.

He keeps me from letting the anxiety completely take over. He keeps the anxiety from completely taking control of every thought and every feeling. He keeps me from cutting too deep or drinking too much or taking more Adderall then I'm supposed to.

I don't know why I'm so attached to Scott. I don't know why he's so important to me in this indescribable way but he is. He's my best friend and my brother and my lifeline. He's the child-lock lid on my Adderall that's too hard to open when I'm drunk. He's the blackness that lurks at the edges of my vision that tells me when to stop cutting. He's the air in my lungs and the blood in my veins and he's my _best friend_.

But he's more than that.

He's _Scott_.

And that, _that_ , is what's truly important.

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That was even darker than I'd intended oops.

This story is kinda shit but I hope someone liked it.

I love Favorites and Follows and Reviews. Especially Reviews. So tell me if you liked it if you want.


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